A House

It must be morning. Long bellies of cloud hug such a thin edge of ground there's no way of knowing what world the road bends to —uncut grass, browned deep, an after-thought of scattered pines, this house with blinds in place behind dark windows. Someone still comes here, still knows. A creak here, a scratch there, wind at the chimney's mouth, then groaning under the eaves.

— originally published in Corium Magazine

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Author's Note

Have always been smitten with the paintings of Edward Hopper. This short piece connects with his work Solitude, 1944.

I can definitely see this the way I see Hopper. I feel what this line expresses when I look at many Hopper paintings.
"there's no way of knowing
what world the road bends to —"
Not a small thing--to be able to capture in words what a painting evokes.

I am toddler-new to reading poetry on a regular basis, but with fictionaut, more and more. I responded absolutely viscerally to this; the shape of it, little a gentle exhalation of breath, the underlying emptiness, of place and space, and surrounding white, the dash of still extant humanity.

I was excited when I saw your new posting and once again I was not disappointed. Strong sense of place with just a hint that the house has an afterlife no one knows about except the "Someone
still comes here, still knows". In a metaphoric sense the house is one's body and who is it, that knows themselves? Loved it, Sam, Fav.

i'm late to this one, but want to echo all that's been said: about form and loveliness -- and how you make the birthing of a perfect, tidy (crazy hard) thing look plain easy. the mood, as evoked by your careful word choice, touches the reader in a place that's just right.

The poem moves from the visual to the aural. At the same time, the perspective moves from middle distance (where Hopper has the viewer?) to up close. In all, an artful movement and an emotionally rich one. Thanks for sharing.

I came looking for a little slice of Sam Rasnake this morning to cheer me up and found this. It's just the medicine. How did you get poetry to evoke Hopper? I'm in awe. Not going to quote a passage because every word is beautiful. Big (late) fave.

So, I too am fascinated with Hopper. This poem is lovely in that the contrast of a still scene is acknowledged alongside those telling signs of life, the movement that occurs both within the house and out.

Love this, Sam. I don't know anyone who makes more powerful writing from their interaction with and response to art. IMO some of these (I won't disrespect any artists by mentioning titles) are stronger work than the art you drew inspiration from. *

Sam, it looks like I faved this story without commenting on it, which I do, sometimes. I remember reading this in Corium and it's a pleasure to read it again. It's one of my favorites of yours. Fantastic.

I'm a huge Edward Hopper fan and you have reached out and put your foot and my mind solidly into his world of paint, form, texture and light and his lonely houses, stark and beautiful in their desolation. This is a taut and compact and pretty damn perfect poem.*

Sam,I really like the spirit underneath the words. I agree with the comments above about how the words seem so natural, as though they merely unfolded on the page. But the larger dimension you have captured here is really quite profound. Amazing how simplicity can do that sometimes! It just vibrates...

I like the balance of tentative hope and melancholy in this that echoes Hopper's painting. The lines,
"there's no way of knowing
what world the road bends to — " conveys his tone well (in so many of his other works as well as this one).

Buddha once said there are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting. But the poem is right-does anyone really know- "what world the road bends to?"

That would take the fun out of it, for someone that takes the time to visit.